Does he know that I escaped all on my own? I don’t know, but I’m definitely not going to mention it. Not after what he did to Calico Jack.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He rubs his thumb gently across my cheek once more before stepping back.
“No.” It’s not entirely true. My ribs are sore from when Cock and Balls threw me in the rowboat, but I’m not going to show him the injury, and I don’t want him ordering me to take my clothes off again.
“You’re not good at lying, lass. There’s no point trying.” He dabs at my lip a little more, then pulls the cloth away, a few traces of blood on it.
“I’m not mermaid-bite injured. Just regular injured. Nothing serious.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push farther. He strides to the door and opens it. The accountant-looking pirate is stationed outside again.
“Smee, tell Cookson to bring up the firepot and get a small one going on deck. Grab a cannonball and put it right next to it so it can warm up.”
Smee looks nothing short of confused, but all he says is “yes, Captain” before turning on his heel and heading below deck.
“Fire on a wooden ship? Doesn’t sound very safe.” I rub my upper arms, the same seawater chill I remember all too well seeping into my bones.
“Cookson is the only one I trust with a flame.” Hook goes to his closet and pulls out one of his white shirts, then digs toward the back, rummaging until he stands up with a pair of gray pants in his hand. “These won’t fit.” He spins again and digs around some more before pulling out a worn leather belt. “But you can use this.”
“I told you, I’m not taking my clothes off.” I slide off the table and back away from him. “Not happening.”
He moves toward me slowly and lays the clothing on the bed. “I’m going to see about the fire. Change in here. You’ll be safe. No one will bother you. I can even send Widow in if you like.”
“Yes.” I think having that fierce pirate in here might help settle my nerves. Because, at the moment, I still feel Calico Jack’s hand at my throat. I lift my hand to my neck and brush my fingers along my skin.
“There’s a mark there, lass.” His anger rises again, but he pauses, clearly making an effort to temper it. “Not a bad one. Should fade in a few days.”
“You’ve had worse, I suppose?” I let my gaze linger along the scar on his cheek.
“Maybe a few times,” he says wryly, then steps closer to me, his movements slow, as if I’m a fawn and he doesn’t want to startle me. But that’s what I am, I suppose. I don’t belong in this violent world of dreams, of never, and of endless night. It was always a pleasant bedtime story. Wendy left so much out. It makes me wonder if Neverland changed or if Wendy did.
I look up at him, my eyes watering. “I shouldn’t be here at all. I’m not going to survive, am I? And when I die, I won’t wake up. I’ll be sitting next to my mother staring at the wall. Dead inside.”
He reaches for me, then pulls his hand back when I tense. Something passes across his face. Maybe sadness or possibly that angry fire I’ve been seeing spark and sizzle when I mention Calico Jack. But maybe it was … hurt? Surely not.
He backs away. “I’ll get Widow. Try to relax, all right? You’ve been through a lot.” With that he leaves and starts barking questions about the fire.
I look down at my night dress. Soaked and dirty with more than just soot and grime from the Ranger—it’s covered in Calico Jack’s fingerprints. My throat closes up at that thought, and I reach down and yank the fabric up. It sticks to me like a wetsuit, but I don’t stop pulling, not even when I hear stitches popping and the material ripping. Once it’s off, I toss it to the corner and grab Hook’s clean shirt.
It’s sick, so damn sick, but I can’t help myself. I press it to my nose and inhale. I’m afraid of him. Iknowhe’s out for my blood. But I still get an indescribable sense of comfort from his scent.
Shaking myself out of my brief insanity, I pull the shirt over my head, then grab the pants. They’re a little stiff, likely made of canvas or something similar, and once they’re on, they billow around my waist. The belt comes in handy, and I cinch it tight.
I gather my hair and tie it in a loose knot at the back of my neck, finishing up as a knock comes at the door. I recognize the cadence of it at once.
“Come in,” I call.
“—your stupid face with the back of my hand if I catch you taking a gander of my ass again.” She points at a red-faced Smee before slamming the door in his face.
“Is he a problem?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. Not at all. He wasn’t even looking at my ass. I just like to fuck with the pencil pusher.”
I lean against the table as she comes closer, her eyes taking me in.
“You’re hurt. Again.” She frowns and inspects my lip and cheek. “Fucking Calico Jack. I’m glad he got what he deserved. It was a long time coming.”
A chill goes through me, and I hug myself.
